


Behind the Bathroom Stalls

by Anonymous



Category: No Fandom
Genre: Anorexia, Bulimia, Bullying, Eating Disorders
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-13
Updated: 2021-02-13
Packaged: 2021-03-12 18:34:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 3,688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29389188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: THIS IS NOT MY STORYthis was written by the TwoSweetCandies on storybird 4 and a half years ago. unfortunately, you now need a paid account to read it, so I'm putting this here for myself before my trial ends.I love this story because I struggle with an ED, and I hope this helps anyone else who stumbles across it.
Kudos: 1
Collections: Anonymous





	1. When You Don't Look Like A Model (But Really, Really, Really Want To)

Taking a glance in the mirror should not be torture.

It should not be a pain to brush your hair, to apply lip gloss.

It's exactly like that for me. Tears at the sight of myself.

My thighs are too big. My cheeks puncture into my nose. I can not see my feet when I look down.

In other words, I'm fat.

I've clearly spent too much time eating ice cream bars while I should be studying. The gloom of empty Dorito bags stuffed under my bed don't help, either.

I sigh. If I was granted one wish, it would be to weigh less. To have to looks of Taylot Swift. Possibly even one of those Sears models.

_Pitter patter pitter patter._

_Too big. Too fat. Too big. Too fat._

I plop down on my bed, my weight sagging me down on my mattress. Hands clenched together, I glare at Mother Nature.

If there was one thing I hated besides my appetite, it was rain.

Hated the way it cascaded down the windows, sprinkling puddles and dirt in every direction.

But I didn't hate it because of the way it clouded over the world in a strange kind of mist, but because it reminded me of the day. The day Dad left.

The way he and Mom argued for months was endless, if I do say so myself. They screamed. They threw. They cried.

Until finally, Dad left. Just like that, one rainy morning, he slammed the door to our hearts shut.

He ran away from life. From us. From me.

"It's raining." My younger sister, Elle, sticks her head in the doorway of my bedroom.

"I noticed," I retorted. I look away from her slim, symmetrical figure. Every time I find myself with her, I think of unwelcome memories of my father. I hate my father. He is selfish and stupid.

"Um... well we're having pizza, if you want..." Her voice trails off. She seemse uncertain in me. I tilt my head back just enough to shoot her an eyeroll.

"Now way," I snap. "I'm fat enough already."

"You're not fat."

"You're just saying that, Elle. I think we both know the truth," I reply. _Why can't I be skinny like her? Why can't I be perfect like her?_ Elle's blue eyes bore into my head in confusion.

"Okay. I'll tell Mom... that you're not hungry. Okay?" She says, offering a smile regards my cold tone. I flash her a flakey one in return.

"Whatever," I murmur under my breath after she leaves the room.

Brat sister.

Out of plain boredom, I scoop up my phone. My fingers slide across numerous pages as I go through my endless apps until I find MyStory, my recent obsession. MyStory was basically your typical social media- you could post pictures, video chat, video call- you name it, it was in there. You could say it was a combined version of Instagram, Twitter, Snapchat, except a million times better and fun packed.

I scroll through my 20,000+ follower feed, giggling over my friends attempt at a selfie. Out of nowhere, a chat message pops up from one of my closest friends, Mally. **Hey, did you see Brittany Miller's recent post... it's interesting** was her almsot instant message.

I gulped.

Brittany Miller?

She and I hadn't exchanged contact in a while, even though we exactly who we were. Whe just chose not to acknowledge each other. In other words, we hated each other. End of subject. There was nothing more to it.

Brittany was popular.

I was popular.

She was mean.

I was nice.

She was really pretty.

I was a fat ugly cow.

Her face that beamed with beauty. Dark eyebrows, stunning hazel eyes. Looks I could only dream of. But despit her halo of blond curls a dark secret lurked deep in her that few people were awar of, like me.

We were the few people who know who Brittney really was. Behind her perfect, angelic face, lies her secret demon. She was judgemental and cruel. She was rude and mean. She hated all those imprefect people.

She hated me.

I tried to steer away from her at all times possible, steer away from that one girl who had once made fun of my imperfections.

It was study hall when I had my first true encounter with the real her, and I had run off to the girls room. My lockets metal strands had become to unravel, and I was desperate to fix it before the period was over. I locked myself in a stall and fumbled with the metal for a few minutes, before tiny clicks paraded into the bathroom.

Crud.

Who else would come along besides Brittany and her stupid gang of sidekicks. Perfect timing.

Through the small crack in the stall I eyed them as they began to apply their eyeliner, all exchanged form the same tube.

"Oh, I love the blush you used, Brittany!" I heard one of the girl's squeal as Brittany giggled in return.

"I know, it's so on fleek!" said Brittany. The girl beamed in pride. Must be such an honor to be talked to by Brittany.

"Way better than that other freaks. You know, the one who always wears that necklace with the heart shaped locket on it?" Another one of the chickens added.

My heart lurched. _I_ was the wearing a heart shaped locket. _I_ was the freak.

"Yeah," agreed another, "That girl is so messed up. Like, she pretends like she's cool or whatever, but she's like, a dork."

Brittany laughed as she layered on ten sticks of lipstick that she doesn't need because she already has lip goals. "Huh, yeah. Have you noticed that she's been getting a little chubby lately? AKA, really fat? She seriously has five neck rolls, I'm not even kidding. And have you seen her thighs? They're just... ew. Just ew."

The other girls chorused in agreement as the crowded around Brittany. "Isn't her name Lauren?" One piped up. "Or is it the FAT hog?"

"Um, hello Cassie? It's both! Lauren the fat hog!" Brittany corrected her friend. My rubbery fingers let go of my necklace. The whole world seems to stop in time as thoughts swirl around a puzzle. Every breath, I can hear. Every footstep, I can hear. Time has frozen.

So they were talking about me.

So I was the fat hog.

So I am overweight.

So I do need to take a look on that diet website.

I don't think I had ever felt so alone in my life at that moment. I didn't feel anything, except the way the rocks in my stomach roll over. They file out of the bathroom, but I stay.

I stay on that toilet and I crouch and I cry and cry cry and cry and cry and cry and cry until no tears are left.

My eyes zoom into my phone, and I stare at the letters until they don't look like anything except a silly saying. The words dig deep into my mind. Deep enough for me to forget life, and to remember. To remember that I wasn't good enough.

That I wasn't thin enough.

Brittany might never remember those words she said that day, but I would.

Always.


	2. When You Do Something You Don't Want To But Do It Anyways

"I can't believe this," I groan.

Actually, I can.

Finally, someone else in this universe who thinks I'm fat and is willing to admit it.

Apparently someone whose name starts with B thought it would be a real fun time to post something about me.

Haha. So funny I forgot to laugh.

In the description of the post, Brittany had written, Guess who the fat pig is! Whoever guesses right gets... hmmm... let me think! Oh, I know! A thousand dollars. Have fun guessing who the fattie is! XD

Was that who I was? Just a fat pig? Slapping down my phone on my bed, I face a mirror and lift up my shirt, and immediately cringe.

"Oh, yeah," the mirror seemed to say. "You're definitely too fat. You really need to cut down on all those stupid snacks. Soon enough, you won't even be a person. Just a lump. Like one of those mutant ocean jelly fish. You do know they're considered the world's ungliest animals, right?"

"Yeah, I know," I said to the mirrow. I sink into my mattress and throw the covers over my head, sobbing.

~~~

"Wake up. Wake up. Wake up."

Hands are shaking me, and I awak to deep warm eyes. It's Mally.

"What the hell are you doing here?" I hiss, and quickly throw a look over to my alarm clock.

5:00 in the morning. Seriously, sometimes I wonder if my best friend has any sane in left in her when she wakes up at four and from then on and spends an hour just working on perfecting her beauty.

And THEN she somehow manages to to make time to come over. At 5 in the morning. Good job, Mally.

She drags me out of bed, and somehow she manages to pull me over to the kitchen. She was still breathing hard from running to my house, and I was breathing hard from my mini-jumpscare.

Mally places me on a stool, and throws her hair into a quick ponytail before bothering to speak with me. "Okay, Lauren, so as your best friend, I know you want to be skinny."

Is she calling me fat? The thought enters before I can stop it, but I push it off to the darker side of my head. "Yeah, I do want to lose some weight. I am kinda tubby." I pay my stomach.

"You're in luck. I know exactly how." Mally clasps her hands together in excitement. 

"No pills or medicine?" I check with her. Im not that desperate, after all. Pills are for the pathetic.

She shakes her head energetically, and explains her plan to me. Several emotions wave through me as she explains. "So, are you up for it?" she smiles. "My sister did it all the time, and now she's a model."

This gives me confidence in her plan, but yet a small voice in the back of my head continues to pester me. I wanted to say "Mally, I can't do it. I'm scared and I'm freaked out and it's gross and I just can't."

The words are dry in the back of my throat, and though I opened my mouth, the wouldn't come out. Then, Mally pats her head and says, "I've got everything right here. Come on, let's do it."

The crimson dawn light that blankets the horizon and spilled into the room, replacing the darkness of the night with a warm glow. She watches me as I yawn and place myself in front of the fridge.

I rumble with hunger, the results of not having eaten anything yesterday. I love food, but I hate eating. Does that make sense?

I take a deep breath and gingerly chose out a slice of leftover pizza from today's lunch, some yogurt, Dorito chips, crackers, and some soda to wash it all down.

Stuffing it all in my mouth, Mally nods in the background in approval. I stick two fingers down my throat, and watch it all come back to me in a splattered mess.

"Good girl," she praises me.

Glints of tears were in my eyes from the burn in my throat, but I don't think that was the only reason I was crying.


	3. When It's Photoshopped And You Know It

"Are you buying lunch after school today, honey?" Mom asks a few hours later.

She's slicing strawberries for Elle's cereal. I nod over to Mom, sucking in my stomach. How is Elle going to eat those? Each strawberry has like, a million calories.

Mom points at the kitchen counter and indicates the newest issue of Teen Elite. I grab it eagerly and paw my hands through the colorful pages, envy creeping over me as I drool at every perfect, tanned, girl I spot on every page.

"It's all photoshopped, you know," Elle says, leaning over me. She's noticed my awe. I shrug.

"Who cares?" I whisper so Mom doesn't hear me. "They're so pretty- and thin."

"But don't you see? These girls are probably normal in real life. They're just jazzed up for the camera!" Elle protests, trying to change my opinion. I laugh.

"No way! Why would they do that?" I ask, then fold the magazine and stuff it in my bag as Mom brings over a tray of bacon and fresh eggs.

The aroma drags me in, but I stop myself before I fill myself up and instead take a small sip of water. That can't hurt, right?

Mom eyes me skeptically with concern.

"Do you feel okay?" she wonders, pressing her hand over my forehead. "You're not eating."

I muster a faint smile and shake my head.

"I'm fine... just, uh, not very hungry," I admit, lying. Mom raises and eyebrow, but decides to believe me through my lie.

"Well at least eat your eggs," Mom said, shaking her head, pecking me on the top of my frizz.

"Bye, girls!" she waves, and bolts out the door in hurry to catch her bus. I leave my eggs and bacon to be and shake on my coat and boots. I wait for Elle to hurry up. I think she finished my eggs AND bacon for me, yet she shows no sign of weight gain.

How she does that is the mystery of the universe. If I ate all that, I would, be, like, dead right now from the fat level.

When the bus arrives I get on and choose my usual seat, next to Mally and I immediately burst into conversation about Brittany's MyStory post from the night before. Mally offers to check the post on her phone, being the best friend she is.

"Go ahead," I encourage her. "I hope no one knows the picture of the fat pig is me!" Mally agrees, then shows me the comments on the post.

All totally random kids I don't even know. _Thank you, totally random kids I don't even know._

"No one thinks it's you yet," she reassured me. "You're safe for now."

"That's good to hear," I say. "But Mally?"

"Yeah?"

"Do you think I'm fat?" I ask her. Mally looks astonished.

"No," she replies softly.

"Your lying!" I excuse her.

"Whatever," Mally says.

She is _so_ lying.


	4. When Basically Everyone At Your School Is Talking About You And They Don't Know It

In art class, I fall on top of this cute guy while on the ladder. He winces in pain, and stares at me for a good moment.

I really want to run away, because I think he knows who I am.

_That fat girl from Brittany's post._

"Hey," the cute guy says. "I know you from somewhere. I've seen that necklace before..."

OH CRAP. So her has seen the post. Was I wearing th necklace in the post? I rack my brain and come out with the simple answer: Yes. I was.

"Erm, of course you have," I lie, "A lot of people wear it. It's from this really popular store."

The cute guy blinks before holding out a hand. "I'm Sean."

"Um." I debate whether or not I should give him my real name or not. He's already got me figured out. He could spill the beans any minute. "Lauren."

"Pretty name." He stares at what seems to be my hands, and I tuck them behind me. Are my fingers too chunky for him?

"I know who you are." Sean says. "You're that... you're that girl Brittany doesn't like. You're getting bullied online and you feel alone in the universe."

OH TRIPLE CRAP CAKES. He knows exactly who I am and he's not afraid to point it out. Goodbye, Sean. It was nice meeting you. Now get out of my life before I kill you with my bare hands...

I must have looked pretty freaked out, because her pokes me to make sure I'm still there.

"Hey, I'm not going to give you away. I don't freaking care about one thousand dollars. Plus, it doesn't matter if you're fat or not. Everyone knows that... aww, never mind. I'm not gonna go on about that stupid crap about being yourself." He turns his back on me.

Okay, so he basically just called me fat. Cool.

I leave, praying to God he won't give me away. He sounds kinda honest, but you never know with boys.

They can lie and cheat you and hurt you and kill you.

The bell rings for lunch period, and I leave as fast as possible. Lunch is the usual. Lots of eight and seventh graders saying "Hi" to me. Lots of desperate boys doing the "I'm-gonna-stare-at-her-until-she-notices-me" type of thing.

I guess you could call me popular if you wanted to. I'm not mean, but I can be sarcastic as anything, which I guess gives me a sharp edge. Other than that, I don't really know why you could consider me "popular." If that's even a thing.

I mean, for starters. Straight brown frizzy hair that hangs dry like a mop, and blue eyes that look like I've spilled some horrid paint mixture over them. And of course I don't even need to mention the whole overweight thing, of course. You already know that.

The table I'm sitting at, of course, goes on MyStory and has seen Brittany's post, and now it's the only thing they're chattering about, besides Ricky Richards, a sixth grader who asked one of my popular friends out, Claudia, out.

Claudia, naturally, refused and spat in Ricky's face, and several minutes, the story and laughing about that was over and our little group moved on to a quick chat about MyStoy while I picked at my lunch, which I had mostly thrown away and was now left with something more suitable for my diet.

It was oddly large for today: a small, small, small, tiny doll cup of water I had borrowed from Elle's dollhouse; a third of a baby carrot, and three peas.

Thankfully, no one noticed my small lunch, they were all to deep in about Mrittany's MyStory post.

"So who do you guys think the fat pig in the picture is?" asked Claudia to the group.

Mary laughed and twisted her designer charm bracelet on her arm.

"Isn't it obvious?" she giggled, and I waited for her to say my name as she hesitated.

"It's Rekina! DUH!" she exclaimed, and I breathed a sigh of relief.

No one had guessed my name. Yet.

"Well, I know who the pig is. I'll text you guys online about it though, since lunch is basically over!" Rissy, another one of my friends joined into the conversation, straining out the final sip of milk.

I gulped. What if she said my name? She couldn't. She wouldn't dare... or would she?

How long would it be before everyone realized the pig heads body in Brittany's blog post was _my_ body?


	5. When You Lose Your Best Friend And Really Want To Cry So You Do

After lunch, I bump into Mally in the hall.

She's chewing on her ponytail. She never does that, because she knows how many chemicals she puts in her hair. Somethings up.

"What's up?" I ask her.

"Hi," she said shyly to me, turning every which way, checking the hall for something unknown, almost as if... as if... she didn't want to be seen with me.

"I need to tell you... oh, never mind. Lauren... don't get mad..." she murmured, hanging her head down.

I begin to fix her hair for her, but she pulls away. "What is it?" I ask softly. This has to be serious. I've never seen Mally without a smirk on her face.

"OkayIcan'tbefriendswithyouanymorecausewellyouarefatandwellBrittanyisjustsoniceandIjusthavetojoinhergroupcomeonyouhavetounderstandpleaselaurenyourmybestfriendyoualwaysunderstoodcan'tyounow?" Words spew from her mouth like toads. They ARE toads.

I catch one phrase. _Okay, I can't be friends with you anymore, cause, well, you are fat and well Brittany is just so nice._

My heart comes to a thud.

She's dumping me, of course.

Is she joking?

As if reading my mind, she answers for me.

"I'm not kidding," she said quietly. "I can't talk to you anymore, Lauren. Let's face it. You. Are. Fat. And. No. One. Likes. You."

I am fat and no one likes me I am fat and no one likes me I am fat and no one likes me.

That should be my life motto. I can go around bragging my best friend said that to me.

I can't help it. I let out a tiny scream. "WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU, YOU-"

Mally shrugs without a care in the world.

How dare she lie to me like that.

How dare she treat me like that.

How dare she pretend to like me and care about me.

"Well technically I was always Brittany's friend," Mally admitted smugly. "I just pretended to be yours so you could be Brittany's guinea pig." The Mally smirk face is back on.

My nostril flares.

She is so going to get it. She is going to pay for this.

I hate her. Hate her hate her hate her.

The anger passes, and the familiar pang of tears hitting me for the hundreth time this week. "You filthy, filthy, liar! Why me, you big freak! URGH! I hate you!"

Whatever you do Lauren, don't cry. Don't cry, don't cry, don't cry, don't let her see I'm weak...

Yup. You guessed it. I cried.

"You have loads of friends, Lauren. Why do you need me?" Mally snickers.

The truth is, I don't, and she knows that well. I have no friends. Rissy, Claudia, and the rest of the group are not my friends. They are simply examples of what I wish I could be.

I hide my ugly uneven face behind my hands, and stumble into the bathroom. _Am I ready for this?_ I ask myself.

_Of course I'm ready. I'm always ready._

One finger slides down my throat, then another. I lean closer towards the toilet. My stomach lurches. Here comes the volcano, now open your mouth nice and wide, you big baby.

And just like that, it all comes up in a rush of sorrow.


End file.
